I love watching people. On trains, in aeroplanes. In cars and restuarants, and walking on the pavement.
Wherever. Just to see what they are doing with their lives. How much fun they are having. What motivates them. What distresses them. Wondering how they got to the point they are at.
Today I saw something that really delighted me. Two Londoners, wrapped in navy jackets and caps, sitting on foldup chairs, selling newspapers next to the ticket office of an underground station. Gossiping with passersby, wrapped up against the freezing cold wind curdling along the concrete tunnels. Clearly happy with their situation and each other’s company, either father and son or two old mates.
What was unexpected about this scene was the delightful smell of incense.
Amoung the cheap paparazzi magazines and even cheaper daily newspapers, amoung all the bad news and rude comments and shocking photographs, these two were selling incense. And not just any kind either – top quality nagchapa in the blue box !!!!
They had a sample burning next to them, and although it wasn’t quite practising yoga or meditation, it was a little bit of indian spirit floating down the cold old corridors of the underground.